Unknown by Unknown

the truth. Uncle Andra was a dear—kind, considerate and utterly honest. But for that very reason he could be an implacable enemy if he came across what he felt was deceit and double-dealing—particularly if it was directed against himself, as he felt was the case where Hector was concerned. He had taken a misliking for Hector—perhaps understandably enough in the circumstances—and as a result, he regarded the younger man as being quite incapable of decent behaviour.
    Meg herself wasn’t quite so sure of that. Certainly she regarded Hector as the most aggressive and arbitrary man she had ever met, but on the other hand, somewhat against her will, she thought that he believed in all sincerity that he had right on his side. The trouble was that Uncle Andra felt the same way about his point of view. Two men, both used to giving orders—it was almost inevitable that they would clash.
    Still, it was no use bothering about that since, in a few days, she would be leaving Blytheburn and whatever happened would be none of her business. Which was the very thing she had wished could be the case, since it meant that she need never see Hector Heronshaw again.
    She rang Aunt Ellen up that evening and rather diffidently explained the circumstances. In one sense her reply was reassuring, in another, the very reverse.
    “Of course you can come, dear," she said without hesitation. “Tom? No, why should he mind? He’s a friendly soul and he genuinely likes you. So come and stay as long as you like.”
    Not thinking that it was worth while wasting expensive time arguing over the length of her visit, Meg thanked her warmly and gave details as to the probable day and time of her arrival.
    “But as I’m driving alone, I shan’t hurry,” she added. “I shall break the trip over-night somewhere.”
    “Very wise, dear,” Aunt Ellen approved, and then, in a totally different manner, asked anxiously: “Meg, what’s Andra up to? And don’t tell me he isn’t, because I know ! It’s his idea that you shouldn’t stay on, isn’t it?”
    ‘‘Well—perhaps, but in any case, with the hotel closing—” Meg hedged.
    Aunt Ellen gave vent to an extraordinary sound which none the less clearly indicated her contempt for any other explanation of her brother’s behaviour than the one she held.
    “My dear Meg, if Andra can rent a caravan for himself, he could have done the same over another one for you!” she insisted. “No, he wants to have an entirely free hand because he’s planning some mischief or other. I know the signs too well! Isn’t it extraordinary,” she added pensively, “the way the most brilliant and successful men still have something of the schoolboy in them?” And she sighed gustily.
    “I don’t think it’s a case of Uncle Andra planning any mischief,” Meg told her, considering. “I think it’s that he’s afraid Sir Hector might be up to trickery of some sort—”
    “Hector?” Aunt Ellen sniffed disdainfully. “Rubbish! No Heronshaw ever got up to anything underhanded! They’re a pig-headed lot and they like their own way, but trickery—no! They simply wouldn’t stoop to it.”
    And for some inexplicable reason Meg found her aunt’s opinion extremely satisfying.
     
    With only a few days to go before she left Blytheburn, Meg didn’t bother to attempt to find out more about the Heronshaws or the Sturts. It just didn’t seem worth while, but oddly enough, in that short space of time, information came her way without any effort on her part.
    Jeremy, already involved in the arrangements for redecorating some of the rooms, unconsciously supplied some of it. He contrived to find time to tell Meg how sorry he was that she was leaving Blytheburn.
    “We could easily have made it two caravans,” he told her. “In fact, I suggested that to your uncle, but he seemed to feel that you weren’t keen on staying.”
    “Well, in some ways, I’m not,” Meg conceded. “I’m used to being busy, you know, and